


Even Tyrians Die

by ComplimentaryCuller



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Feferi Peixies - Freeform, Gen, Karkat out living everyone, someone's gotta do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComplimentaryCuller/pseuds/ComplimentaryCuller
Summary: You step up to the podium, the strange, clear recuperacoon-esq container holding Feferi’s, Her Imperial Complacency’s, body casting a strange light over you. You look down at her courtiers, descendants in the front row, her culls sitting next to each other, some holding grasp-fronds, others holding quadrants tightly or weeping quietly. Some of her admirals, all grasping their lifespan with wizened claws. She floats, a peaceful smile on her normally buoyant face, wrinkled and aged. And you, looking at most like a blue of 200 sweeps. Maybe a cerulean, in the right light. You take a deep breath.





	Even Tyrians Die

“She,” you start, and grimace. “I knew Her Imperial Culler since, oh, hatching, practically.”  
You smile fondly, remembering those simpler sweeps.  
“I met her through a coding buddy, The Livewire, as you remember him, who was The Timemaid’s moirail, who was flarping, larping now, I suppose, buddies with The Countess Lightweb, who was kismessis’ with The Wavelord, who was her moirail. Very, very roundabout. We never spoke much, me, an illegal, at the time, mutant, and her, the Imperial Heiress. After The Dismantlement, we grew closer, but she tried to keep her distance as best she could. We didn’t know how much time I had, burning as hot as I do. We assumed it was less than burgundy, but after The Livewire passed, we thought, maybe olive. And then The Saccharn died. And The Creatrez. The Justicer. Our moirails, The Ringlead and The Wavelord were the last to go. And then they all went, and it was just the two of us.”  
You clear your throat, blinking away red-pink tears.  
“We never defined what we had. Hate-friends without the enmity, moirails without the closeness, you couldn’t place it. We were never quadranted, not even close, but we had something, else. We knew one of us would go first, but we didn’t acknowledge it, even in passing. In our time, Empresses didn’t die of old age, only by a Heiress’ Trident. The propaganda said she would never die, and we all sort of believed it. I suppose it served its purpose well.”  
You chuckle, and some smile through the tears.  
“We were the last of our hatch-brood, and we clung to each other as we sped through the stars, fixing what we could, undoing the damage of the past, supplying resources, mediating between planets, colonizing empty ones. We explored each one; we learned hundreds of languages, tried new things together. But then her chitin started to flake. And mine was still smooth.”  
You stop, words choking you.  
“And we returned home. She had heiresses to train, culls to care for, she started a garden of coral, even.”  
You smile sadly at the memory.  
“I was there with her for it all, and I am so grateful. We overthrew a dictatorship together, but it pales to what we made in its place. She shall be missed, from a hatch mate to a hatch mate, each as unlike another as they weren’t. May the horror terrors guide you to a sweet dream-bubble, Feferi.”  
You turn, and prick your wrist, letting a drop of your once unnatural blood drip into the already saturated salt-water of the coon. The stew of colors reddens noticeably, and a few drops drip on your “human”, a favorite ally of hers, suit. Black, with red accents, and her sign in majestic fuchsia over the pusher. You sit, and one of your culls, Ewqure, an olive, hugs you tightly, and whispers to you. “You were strong, lusus.” The heiresses and her culls are lining up, one after another, to place the troll-flesh eating tooth-fish in the recuperacoon, and you hold Ewqure tightly as the salt-water turns tyrian. And you think you’ll survive.


End file.
